


Außer Betrieb

by PlayingChello



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Anal Sex, Eren has a dick piercing, Eren has some issues too, Fingering, French!Levi, German!Eren, I literally have no idea how to tag this, Levi's got lot's of baggage, M/M, That's it, also, that's the story, the emotional kind, there's lots of swearing in other languages, they're on a train, though he's got some of the literal kind also, writer!levi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:18:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3137456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi wants out of Auch, France so he figures Germany is a good a place as any to end up. At least until the train breaks down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Réunion

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this is a gift for [Iristelle](http://iristelle.tumblr.com) who was my secret santa and drew me a fucking awesome picture and I just love so I had to say thank you. Um, you asked for stuck on a train and I did that and I hope you like this cuz it just kinda happened? But yeah. I have elaborate backstories that never touched the meat of this and my beta (the ever lovely [Renee](http://randompinkbunny9.tumblr.com)) is begging me for more of this so maybe someday if the muse is loud enough.
> 
> ANYWAY, have fun hope you enjoy.
> 
> PS: apologies for my shitty google translate French and German. I don't know how to speak these languages, I just wish I did.
> 
> EDIT: Uh I'm fucking flabbergasted. There are over 100 kudos on this and I posted it like four or five days ago? That is fucking nuts. Like super fucking nuts. I don't know what to say or how I can possibly thank you guys. Um, due to popular demand and some niggling ideas, this will be turned into a series and have at least one continuation. And that is the only thing I can think to do to thank you all for the amazing support from this. Wow.

The Frankfurt airport is a fucking nightmare, especially now, in prime tourist season. Getting off the plane was easy-the perks of travelling business class. But getting from my gate to the train station is not so easy. I should have just taken the train from Auch, but I wanted out. I wanted to get as far away from Auch, France as I could. Taking a train the whole way would have taken too long, given me too much time to think.

The train station is a bit less crowded that the main airport, but it’s still pretty fucking awful. People are not my forte and when I see several with faces buried in tissues or red nosed from sniffling, I like them even less. I breathe a sigh of relief at my limited foresight at least getting me a first class ticket. Tourist season means a lull in business travel, and since most first class travelers tend to be people on business, it also means a lull in the amount of people traveling first class. The car should be fairly empty.

The train arrives five minutes early and the people waiting bustle into one another to get on. I hang back, biding my time until I can get on without touching other people. Once settled into a seat I immediately pull out my laptop and connect my headphones. I open the document I had started on the plane.

Writing puts me in a special state of mind. Add the power of noise cancelling headphones and it’s like I’m literally transported into another world. I’m able to experience my characters’ thoughts and emotions and their story can spill out through my fingertips. I’ve always prefered using that trance when I’m travelling, it keeps the trips seemingly shorter and makes me hate the proximity to people a little less.

On the plane, I had a sudden bout of inspiration and started putting down the tale of a commander, trying against all odds to save the world from an opposition force of terrible creatures. The commander reminds me a bit of my editor. I think I’ve pulled a lot from his personality, whether I realised it at the time or not. I draw a lot of characters from people around me. I once built a character from my estranged cousin because the way she held herself in photographs struck me. I’ve used my roommate’s characteristics several times, what with their questionable sanity and obnoxiously curious mind they make for an excellent archetype.

I even put myself into one of my characters this time. A captain in the military, under the famed commander, with a rather tragic past and a penchant for cleanliness and my vulgar humour. But my character is quite a bit more impressive than I am, being the strong, silent military civant. I guess, in some ways, he’s how I wish to be. Or how I wish I could be.

But that’s all sentimental bullshit.

Now I’m facing one of the worst episodes of block I’ve had in ages. I need a new character to come in, someone innocuous but with something fierce. But he isn’t speaking to me. I’ve been staring at that stupid blinking cursor for what feels like hours. (A glance to the clock tells me it’s only been about fifteen minutes).

The blinking is infuriating enough that I slam the lid of my laptop shut with a huff and shove it into the empty seat next to me along with my headphones. I collapse against the seat and let my head loll to the left to look out the window. The German countryside passes at a furious pace and I let my mind wander. It isn’t long before my eyes start tracking the landscape and play tricks on me making it seem like the train is slowing down.

No, the train really seems to be slowing down.

I jerk forward and press myself toward the window. I’m sure of it now, the train is definitely slowing down. And seeing as it’s only been about half an hour, there’s no way we’re in Mannheim yet. Yet the train continues to slow. Once it has slowed down considerably, a raucous squealing pierces the air and the whole train comes to a jolting halt. There are several aggravated grumbles from behind me and one emphatic “ _Ficken!_ ” I don’t know all that much German, enough to get around. But I know that word.

“ _Meine Damen und Herren, aufgrund technischer Störungen wird sich der Zug um einige Minuten verspäten. Bitte bleiben sie sitzen, während wir versuchen das Problem zu beheben._ ” The voice continues the message in a few more languages in the same monotone before cutting short.

“ _Scheiße, fick mich!_ ” The same voice as before continues to spew colourful German through the first class car. With little better to do, I move to the edge of the empty seat next to me and look around the seat to where the enraged monologuing is coming from. I think I expected some small, irate, old man or punky teenager to be sitting in the seat three rows back and across the aisle. I guess I don’t really know exactly what I was expecting.

It certainly wasn’t the man I saw.

Sitting there, passion and anger glittering across brilliantly green eyes (or where they blue? Or… yellow?), dark hair messy and unkempt, arms crossed petulantly across his chest, is quite possible the most beautiful human being I’ve seen in my life. He’s dark, his German is so good that I can’t imagine he isn’t native in some respect but he doesn’t have the fair hair, skin, or eyes so common among Germans. He has this foreign look and an almost ethereal beauty about him, even though his brow is drawn and he looks so immeasurably pissed off. And then there’s his eyes. I can’t pin them down. Most of the time they look green, but sometimes they flicker and they catch deep tones of blue or a flash of yellow.

I realise my mouth has been hanging open and shut it with a scowl. “ _Fermez la baise, sale gosse._ ”

He glares at me and I’m hard pressed to be intimidated because he’s just so beautiful. “ _Ich spreche kein Französisch._ Care to insult me in another language?”

A smirk pulls unbidden at my lips. “I didn’t insult you, just told you to shut up. So do everyone a kindness and stop your whining.”

I turn back around in my seat, finished with the pointless chatter, so I can wait for the train to start moving again. I move back to my original seat and bring my laptop back to my lap. I’ve got some sudden ideas for that character I was having trouble with.

I’ve barely gotten my description down of the spitfire young recruit with blazing eyes and a temper that could start wars when someone sits in the empty seat next to me. My eyes flick over to see the beautiful man off of whom I am currently basing a character. I pay him little mind and continue typing.

“What are you doing?” His accent is thick but his English is good and his words clear. He probably speaks it better than I do.

“Typing.”

He makes an indignant noise and I can feel his eyes on my screen. “What are you typing?”

I sigh and turn my head to look at him, “None of your fucking business, brat.”

His eyes narrow, “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem? I don’t know. The fucking train is broken down in the middle of nowhere and I have someone in my personal space asking stupid questions. Things are just going so well right now.”

And then he does something I am completely unprepared for. He laughs. It’s loud, boisterous, and jarring. Not at all something I would say is pleasant to listen to. It’s almost cacophonous.

“ _Vous êtes chanceux que vous êtes belle,_ ” I mutter under my breath.

“I thought we agreed we had English in common, _Oder wäre es dir lieber, ich würde wieder anfangen auf deutsch zu fluchen?_ ”

I glare dangerously at him and then turn my attention back to my screen. My fingers fly across the keys, trying to get down the mannerisms of the man sitting next to me and put them into the recruit with wild dreams and outrageous claims. I can feel his eyes tracking the letters appearing on the electronic page again. I’m glad I write in French for once in my life.

“Are you writing about me?”

My eyes widen and my heart pounds at the implication that he’s been able to read what I’ve written. I’ve been spinning a none too subtle account of just how beautiful he is. “Thought you didn’t know French.”

“I said I don’t _speak_ French. Which I don’t. At least not well. But I can understand it and read it well enough. Is that a yes then?”

Shit, I had hoped he wouldn’t come back to that. “I’m writing about a character.”

“So you write? What’s it about?” He looks genuinely curious, and not at all patronising. A somewhat welcome breath of fresh air.

Still, I don’t answer for a while, continuing to type until I make it to an alright place to stop a few moments later. Then I save and close the laptop before focusing on him. “I don’t have much down yet. So far it’s mostly world building. It’s about a military force battling a seemingly impossible force of monsters.”

His eyes light up and I’m struck again by how amazingly beautiful he is. “That sounds great!” He digs through his pocket and pulls out a phone, “Let me give you my number, I want to know when this comes out.”

“I don’t even know your name,” I say blankly, staring at the phone in his hand.

He glances up, apparently oblivious, “Oh, I’m Eren. Eren Jaeger.” He holds out his free hand to me.

I am going to regret this. “Levi Ackerman.”

His whole body goes stiff and his eyes widen in shock. I knew I would regret this. “Levi Ackerman? As in the same Levi Ackerman that wrote _Flügel der Freiheit?_ ”

I roll my eyes, “I wrote that book in French, you know. And yet it’s the German version that’s popular.”

His lips break into a massively wide smile and he drops his phone in his lap in favour of grabbing the hand I had yet to manage to pull away in both of his. “I’m a huge fan! I wish I had my copy of the book so you could sign it…” his voice trails off.

“I wouldn’t sign your shitty book anyway.”

He looks wounded. It’s mildly obnoxious how much that affects me, but I shake it off. He’s quiet for a bit then I am granted with the privilege of watching a realisation come over him. Just before he speaks though, I realise I’m probably not going to like it, what with the way his lips curl into an evil smirk. “So I’m going to be in your next book then?”

My eyes narrow, “Tch, I told you, I’m writing a _character._ ”

“A character that looks an awful lot like me, mm? _Yeux verts brillants?_ Sounds like you think I’m pretty,” his voice cants low at the last part, and I must say the way his accent caresses the French is unfairly attractive. I can feel the faintest heat blooming on my cheeks from his implication. There’s nowhere for me to escape to, I’m already in my seat and the train is still stopped.

Instead of gracing him with a response, I level him with a dangerous glare. To his credit, he holds out a moment before shrinking in the seat. Even more to his credit, he rebounds quickly. “So, what brings you to Germany?”

To keep him from seeing the way my eyes cloud over at the question, I turn away and look out the window. It’s a normal enough question for people to talk about while traveling. But not this time. He _really_ doesn’t need to hear about my cowardice, how I’m running away. It’s not a flattering tale.

A feather light pressure alights on my shoulder, “I- You d-”

“I ran.” I don’t turn around, stay focused on a tree a little distance from the train.

He’s quiet, but his hand doesn’t move from my shoulder. The tension crackles through the air between us. I almost wish I could see his face. Then I would know if he’s looking down on me, if his image of me as an author has been shattered, if there’s pity, sympathy, or anger in his eyes.

The hand on my shoulder squeezes lightly before it falls away. “From what?”

I had been expecting the question. But that isn’t what makes me turn back to face him. No, what makes me need to see his face to believe what I heard is the way those two words had been _dripping_ with _concern._

His eyes are wide, maybe from surprise, but there’s a softness at the corners that speaks to the concern. Nothing about him says pity or anger, much less anything demeaning. Just genuine and unabashed _caring._

It’s a foreign concept for me. And something about the way he looks at me makes me answer, “My best friends died. And it was my fault.”

He doesn’t speak. His expression doesn’t even change. He simply watches me, as if he’s waiting for something. His fingers twitch in his lap but he doesn’t reach out, for which I am thankful.

After a long time of staring at one another, he takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment, “I wasn’t there when my mother died.”

The admission is somewhat out of place. It doesn’t really make much sense. But I can see that this is his way of trying to comfort me. It shifts the focus away from me. And I find myself curious about him in a way I’ve never been about anyone before.

This time, when silence falls between us, it’s more comfortable. A certain solidarity connects us now. I lean back in my chair and my lips twitch at the corners.

“How was it your fault?” His question is so quiet, so unsure. It’s like he’s talking to a frightened animal he thinks might balk. I suppose he’s not too far off.

My brow furrows. It doesn’t even occur to me to deny him an answer. “I was supposed to meet them. I was supposed to be there. But I wasn’t, so they came to find me. I don’t know all the details, but there was a drunk driver. They never should have been there, if I’d have just been there...”

His fingers twitch again. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and find him looking down at his hands in _anger_. His fingers curl in and fists clench. He’s practically seething. “It’s not your fault,” he hisses through gritted teeth.

I turn my head back to him with wide eyes, “What the fuck are you so angry about?”

He looks up and his eyes flash red with passion, “You shouldn’t blame yourself, it wasn’t your fault. It was the driver’s fault.”

He watches me, body tensed in fury and I let my eyes wander over him. My gaze settles on his lap where his phone had long since been forgotten. I reach out and pluck it up. His anger melts away instantly to make room for his confusion. I don’t look up, just navigate his (German) phone and enter my contact information before sending myself a text so I can have his.

I drop the phone back into his lap and it makes a slap sound as it lands. “What did you do?”

“Changed your language to Russian,” I deadpan. When he scrabbles to check, I smirk, “I gave you my number, dipshit. Don’t abuse it.”

Imagine a young child that you just told gets to go to space or some equally unattainable yet desirable thing. That’s what Eren looks like right now. He looks like I just gave him the greatest gift on Earth. He stares at me in wonder for a few more moments then taps around on his phone, no doubt to confirm I’m telling the truth.

I scowl at him when my phone vibrates in my pocket. Still, I dig around for it anyway. I’m not in the least surprised to find two unread messages from an unknown number (and a smattering of missed calls and messages from people back home that I continue to ignore). The first message is the one I had sent myself. The second one is the one he had just sent me.

**From: Unknown**  
 _You think I’m pretty._

The glare I send him is positively murderous. And he just sits there looking at me with this self-satisfied smirk. “It’s true. Don’t deny it.”

“Your appearance gave me the inspiration I had been lacking. That’s all.” I shove the phone back into my pocket.

At this, his smile widens and he quirks an eyebrow up, “So… You’re saying I’m your muse or something?”

Not two minutes ago he was in complete awe that I’d give him my phone number and now he’s being a cocky little shit saying stuff like this. Who the fuck is this guy? “I never said shit about a muse. Your head’s too big, brat.”

“Never been a complaint I’ve heard before.” He winks. He fucking _winks._

“I don’t want to hear your fucking dumb cock jokes.”

He takes on the same kind of mock offense and innocence that is so characteristic of Hanji whenever I insult them, “I never said anything about cocks. Just goes to show what’s on _your_ mind. You thinking about my cock?” The smirk is back.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t need to, you do it well enough. I’ll just read your next book if I need flattery.”

Before I can answer, the train car lurches and pitches us both forward in the seats.

“ _Der Motor wurde repariert. Wir werden in Kürze wieder aufnehmen Service._ ”

“Finally,” I mutter, leaning back as the car lurches again and then the train starts moving once again toward Mannheim.

The train is back up to its high speed travel before I realise Eren hasn’t said anything. I glance over at him, still seated next to me. His eyes are staring at the seat in front of him and he’s got an odd pensive look on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time. When he does finally speak, it’s to ask a question, “Where are you going?”

My eyes narrow, “What do you mean?”

His eyes flick up for the briefest of moments before returning to stare at nothing, “I know you’re running away. Where are you going to go?”

I hadn’t really thought about it too much, I just wanted to get away and I know German, so it seemed a sensible place to go. “I’m not sure. Nuremberg? Munich? Hadn’t really decided.”

He’s quiet again for a long time. I figure he’ll speak when he’s ready. He seems to be struggling with something, so I just let him stew in his thoughts while the land passes out the window. Eventually, he whispers something under his breath so quietly that I don’t catch the words. “Didn’t catch that.”

He shrinks, then says just barely louder, but enough for me to hear him, “I’m from Hesseneck.”

“Good for you.” I say the words without thinking. But then I stop and realise what he had said, and what implications the words had. “Why did you tell me that?”

There are few things I’ve experienced more satisfying than the terrified way Eren looks at me. At least until I get to watch the way it transforms into reckless determination. It almost hides the way his shoulders shudder slightly with his nerves. And it’s that, his unyielding determination despite being terrified, that truly attracts me to him. “You could go there.”

“I’ve never even heard of Hesserneck.”

“ _Hesseneck._ And that’s probably because of how small it is,” his voice is getting stronger the more he talks, most likely bolstered by the fact that I didn’t immediately dismiss him, “No one would find you there.”

“Heh,” I huff a breath of laughter, “You don’t know my roommate. Or my editor.”

His gaze flicks downward for a moment, “It was just an idea.”

I hum noncommittally and settle back into my seat and open my laptop. We fall into a companionable silence, at least on my part. I catch him reading over my shoulder sometimes, but I find I don’t mind too much. He hadn’t been completely off when he suggested he was my muse. His presence is making the words flow easily. Occasionally he asks about something or we chat about nothing. It’s easy. And before I know it, the train is slowing again and we’re approaching the Mannheim stop.

As the train slows further and further, Eren sinks in on himself more and more. Just before we make it into the station, Eren shuffles in the seat and moves to get up. I look at him in confusion and grab his wrist before he can get too far. “Where are you going?”

He looks back at me with a perplexed frown, “Back to my seat. We’re stopping, I have to go home.”

“Thought you were going to take me to Hearseneck or wherever.”

“ _Hesseneck!_ ” he hisses at me on instinct. Then he realises what I had just said. “Wait, you’re actually going to come?”

I shrug, finally dropping his wrist now that I’m sure he won’t leave, “You offered.”

“Yeah, but I thought-”

“If you don’t want me, just say so. I’ll go somewhere else.”

“No!” he practically yells. Then his eyes widen and he calms himself, “No, please. Come stay with me.”

I watch him and have to bite my tongue to keep from smirking at his puppyish expression. Finally, I nod and lean back while we wait for the doors to open.


	2. Enracinement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This place is fucking filthy.”
> 
> Eren, who has started unpacking his laptop to replace it on his desk, looks over his shoulder at me. Then he straightens and looks around the room. “Well, I haven’t been here for a few weeks, so I guess it could use some dusting.”
> 
> “It needs considerably more than a dusting. I’m not sleeping here until it’s clean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! So by popular demand, this has gotten a massive followup. So massive (16k words) that I'm breaking it up into several chapters. I'm kinda guessing where chapter breaks are going to be, so I'm not sure exactly how many there with be, but maybe 3 or 4 after this? But anyway, the rest of this is considerably more angsty, with a helping of eventual smut. I'm probably going to update once a day until it's all out since it's all already written.
> 
> Many thanks to both [Renee](http://randompinkbunny9.tumblr.com) and [Iristelle](http://iristelle.tumblr.com) for betaing and reading this mess and also all credit for the prompt still goes to Iristelle.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://playingchello.tumblr.com).

My first thoughts as I push into the little flat behind Eren, bags in hand, are of how messy the place is. I reluctantly set down my luggage and stop to take it all in. The place isn’t all that big. The door opens directly into the living space where a television, desk, and some seating are set up. There’s a hallway off to my left and farther away I can see the living area opens up through a large archway to what appears to be a dining area. What little I can see of the hallway opens up to a little kitchen area separated from the living room by a wall.

“This place is fucking filthy.”

Eren, who has started unpacking his laptop to replace it on his desk, looks over his shoulder at me. Then he straightens and looks around the room. “Well, I haven’t been here for a few weeks, so I guess it could use some dusting.”

“It needs considerably more than a dusting. I’m not sleeping here until it’s clean.”

He looks at me strangely for a long time then shakes his head at me. He walks into the hallway to my left and I hear him digging into something. He comes back out with a bucket and broom in hand. In the bucket is a myriad of cleaning supplies with absolutely no organisation to them whatsoever. He sets the bucket down in the middle of the room and starts sweeping haphazardly at the wooden floor of the living room. 

His poor methodology is making me cringe, so I sigh heavily and kneel down next to the bucket to examine what I have to work with. There isn’t much, but he does have some general purpose cleaners that should work well enough. There’s even some decent bathroom cleaners and two sponges and a cleaning rag. Though half this stuff looks like it hasn’t been used in a very long time. I start with one of the all-purpose cleaners and the rag and get to work on any surfaces.

“Hey, you don’t need to clean. You’re a guest, you should just relax.” I hadn’t even realised he’s been staring at me for the last several minutes while I went through the bucket.

“If you clean like you sweep, I’ll have to do it all over again anyway. I’d prefer to just do it right the first time.”

He huffs indignantly at me, but doesn’t say anymore and returns to sweeping. This time though, he pays more attention to what he’s doing and does a considerably better job of it. I smirk as I return to the surfaces.

It takes us a couple hours to clean the whole thing, even though it’s a pretty small space, it really is pretty dirty when we start. While we clean, I get the chance to explore the rest of the apartment. The hallway is short and ends in a door to a bathroom, a little closet to the left, and the bedroom to the right. The bedroom has a closet on the wall it shares with the bathroom and is otherwise open. There’s only one window to light the room and Eren has his bed right underneath it, a nightstand to one side and a bookshelf to the other. The whole apartment has hardwood flooring, which makes the cleaning that much faster. The kitchen has shitty linoleum and barely has enough appliances to be called a kitchen, but there is a fridge and a stove so it could be worse.

Finished with the cleaning, I withdraw my laptop from my bag and find somewhere near the couch to plug it in while I open up my document.

“How are you going to get that to your editor without revealing where you are?” Eren asks as he plops down on the couch next to me.

I don’t even look over, “Honestly, he probably already knows where I am. Especially if he teamed up with my roommate. They probably tracked my phone or computer or some shit. If they haven’t come running yet, then I’m not terribly worried.”

He makes a little noise and stays quiet after that. I use the blissfully comfortable silence to try and write. At some point Eren gets up and goes elsewhere, but I don’t pay attention to where. I don’t even notice as the darkness settles over the small apartment, not until Eren flicks on a light and practically blinds me in the process. “What the actual fuck?”

He stares at me as if I’m crazy, “It got dark, I couldn’t see.”

I glance out the window and see that yes, it is actually quite dark now. My stomach growls insistently and I realise I also haven’t eaten since… I actually don’t remember.

Eren chuckles, “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Don’t remember. Probably yesterday sometime.”

“Well, I don’t have much. I could probably dig up some instant noodles. Otherwise we’ll have to get take out. We should go shopping tomorrow, though.”

I consider the options. I’m no stranger to last minute meals as I frequently forget to eat and am not much of a cook, and the moment anyone needs to be taken care of by Hanji, who has an assistant to take care of them, is a moment they have become lost. Hanji’s been taking care of me since we were kids. “Take out’s fine.”

Eren disappears into the kitchen and I hear him rummage around a bit before calling back to me, “Chinese or pizza?”

“Doesn’t matter,” I call back. Moments later he’s stepping back into the living room.

“Chinese it is, then. What do you want?”

He hands me the menu and I glance through it quickly, “General Tso’s Chicken is good for me.” I give him back the menu and dig through my pocket while he’s looking through it. When he’s taking out his phone to call in the order, I shove a handful of money into his lap.

He looks at me strangely, “I can get it.”

“You’re already giving me a place to stay and I have more than enough money.”

He pouts at me, but accepts my meager offering and calls in to order the food. After informing me that it should be here in about a half hour, he disappears again. I focus back on the screen in front of me, words smattering the top half of the screen. I tap out a few more sentences but the words aren’t coming to me like they had been; so before too long, I give up and close the laptop and lean back on the couch.

“Are you trying to hide from your readers?” Eren’s voice surprises me from a nearby chair where he’s lounging, a book in hand. But he’s not reading at the moment, instead he’s watching me carefully.

“What?”

“You never do book signings, you don’t have a picture with your ‘about the author’ and that is entirely uninformative as well. Why?”

I don’t really have any reason why I should explain myself to him. We don’t really know each other, we’re just strangers who happened to talk while we were sitting on a broken down train. And yet, there’s something about him, a spark, a pull. It draws me out of myself and makes me feel comfortable. And that’s fucking dangerous.

“I don’t do book signings because I hate people and they’re gross and I don’t want to touch their likely poorly taken care of books, mine or otherwise. I don’t have a picture because I hate pictures and Erwin seems to think I’d probably just scare people anyway. I’m not exactly what people expect when they think about the author of my books. And my ‘about the author’ is abysmally blank because I don’t want people to know things about me. That one Erwin has been fighting with me on.”

“Erwin’s your editor?” I nod. He seems to absorb the information I just gave him all in stride. After a few moments of staring at one another, he offers a small smile and returns his attention to his book. He seems completely relaxed, despite the fact that he has a complete stranger sharing his personal space. For all he knows, I could be a fucking psychopath that enjoys killing random men who bring me home. I’m not, but still.

My eyes wander around the room briefly before settling back on him. He is definitely the most interesting thing to look at in the room anyway. And it’s now that I finally catch a glimpse of _what_ book he’s reading. The deep forest green cover with the white and blue wing emblem blown up to cover the front is disgustingly familiar. I don’t even need to strain my eyes to know the gold text reads _Flügel der Freiheit_ and in smaller letters at the bottom _Levi Ackerman_.

“You’re reading my book.” I didn’t really mean to say that out loud, but it’s out now.

He glances up, “Yeah. It’s been a while. It’s nice to revisit my favourite stories once in a while.”

“Tch, doesn’t really hold up these days.”

He marks his place and lays the book reverently across his lap. It’s hardcover. “I disagree. It’s been my favourite book since I got it when it came out. That was, what, six years ago? I was a junior in high school.”

I roll my eyes, “Great, now I feel fucking old. That makes you, what? Twenty-one?”

He scoffs as if I’d just offended him, “Twenty-three. Why, how old are you, Mr. Mysterious Author?”

Unfortunately, my glare doesn’t seem to dissuade him, “Twenty-nine.”

“You act like you’re ancient. You’re not even that old. And you look younger.” I reinforce my glare. “Wait, so you were twenty-three when you wrote this?” He looks down at the book in his lap, fingers running over the cover carefully.

“Twenty-two actually. Just got published when I was twenty-three.”

He stares at me with wide, _fucking beautiful_ , eyes. It’s weird, being so candid about my books. The only people I really talk to about them are Hanji and Erwin, and that’s because they won’t leave me alone, and Is-

Nevermind.

“When’s the food going to be here? I’m fucking starving.”

“Um, any minute.” His face is screwed up in confusion now at my sudden outburst. After watching me closely for a few seconds, he picks the book back up and finds his place again.

There’s probably five more minutes of me trying my hardest not to just stare at him before Eren’s phone rings. He answers and it’s obviously the delivery guy. He makes a vague motion to me that he’s going to go open the door for the guy and get the food and I nod. Before he gets up, he carefully sets the book aside on the coffee table.

While he’s gone, I find myself in a tense staring contest with my own fucking book. He obviously holds it in high esteem and cares for it as if it’s precious. Not even I take that much care with any of my possessions. Not even my computer, and that’s my fucking livelihood. And now I’m feeling sort of bad dismissing him so quickly when he wanted me to sign it.

Fuck.

I’m going to regret this.

I manage to get myself settled back on the couch before the doorknob turns and Eren walks in with a big paper bag. The distinctive scent of shitty take out Chinese food fills the space quickly and my stomach grumbles again and I’m reminded again that it’s been a long time since I last ate.

We move to the little round dining table to eat. The meal is mostly silent, both of us focused on shoving the cheap Chinese down our throats. Eren does cast several glances my way, though. It’s like he’s worried or something. I can’t imagine why.

Finished, I go back over to the couch to open up my laptop. I sift through my email inbox. Most of it is junk and concerned people worried about my mental state. I’ve got a few emails related to my writing, those are the only ones I really care about0. One from Erwin has his concern for my whereabouts slipped in so I can’t avoid it, so I ignore it instead.

A gasp draws my attention to the brunet behind my screen. He’s sitting with his legs curled up under him, clearly a position meant to enjoy some late night reading, but he’s frozen in place with the front cover of the book open. One of his hands is covering his mouth and his eyes are the widest I’ve seen them yet.

“Close your mouth or you’ll drool on it.”

His attention immediately snaps up to me, hand still over his mouth. His eyes flick down again then back to me. I hold his shocked gaze with an impassive stare of my own. “But you- you said- I thought-”

“Either complete a sentence or shut up, because that’s just irritating.”

I almost laugh at the way his mouth snaps shut audibly. He takes a couple deep breaths, glances down at the book again, then closes his eyes and takes one more deep breath. He closes the cover of the book ever so gingerly. “Why?”

I shrug, “You take better care of that book than I do of my computer.” And you’re beautiful and I just wanted to make your face light up.

And that’s exactly what happens. When the shock wears off of him, he breaks into something positively _giddy_. He spends a few minutes vibrating in his chair and making all these little unintelligible noises that can’t be considered any kind of language, although I do hear an occasional word in German. Then he fixes me with an earnest stare, “Thank you, I don’t even know what to say or how I can possibly repay you, but thank you so much.”

Then the oddest thing happens; his face falls and even though he doesn’t move, he suddenly looks considerably smaller. He whispers something in a language I don’t recognise (how many fucking languages does this kid know?) and it’s sad and it fucking breaks my heart to see.

But I don’t know how to deal with sad people. I don’t even know how to deal with myself being sad. I ran away from home because I was sad. So I let him be and return to going through my emails. A heavy silence settles over the small room for a while, but it lifts gently after some time. When I glance back up over my computer screen, Eren is smiling softly to himself as he reads and I find I don’t regret signing the book at all.

Sometime later, Eren yawns loudly and when I look up at him he’s stretching across the chair he’s in and it’s fucking _distracting_. The way he stretches out at an angle, nearly falling off the chair in the process, the way his shirt rides up just a little to show a sliver of dark skin and a hint of dark hair under his navel. I catch myself staring before he opens his eyes again and blinks at me so I can focus on anything _but_ him.

“If you’re tired, you can take the bed. I’ll sleep out here, I don’t mind,” he says while he stifles another yawn.

I shut my laptop and slide it back into my bag, “It’s your apartment.”

He frowns, “So?”

“So, I’m not even supposed to be here. I’m not going to kick you out of your bed.”

“I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing you were out here and I’m in the bed. Take the bed, I’ll be right out here if you need anything.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“I’m sorry my manners are off-putting,” he says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Come on, there’s an outlet in there if you want to write all night or whatever.” He stands and leads me to the bedroom and I follow behind somewhat reluctantly, computer bag in tow.

I perch on the bed while Eren gathers a few blankets, a pillow, and his phone charger from the room. He reminds me he’ll be right in the living room if I need anything and I give him a noncommittal wave.

“Do you want me to turn the light off?” he asks when he’s finished, standing in the door with everything he grabbed awkwardly lumped in his arms.

“I’ve got it.”

“Alright, goodnight, Levi.”

The sincerity and tenderness of his words takes me by surprise and I answer out of habit, “Goodnight.”

He disappears down the hall and I immediately stand to shut the door and flick off the light then strip down to something I can sleep in. A small bedside lamp lights my way back to the bed. I set my computer bag on the floor, propped up against the bedside table, then pull the duvet back so I can crawl in underneath it.

The bed is warm and the thick duvet has a nice homey feel to it, like it was handcrafted. By the looks of it, it very well may have been. I pull it up to my chin and turn to the side so I can turn off the lamp. Once darkness settles over the room, I let myself burrow further into the bed and find I’m surrounded by a pleasant scent of cinnamon, forest, and something like crisp morning dew. I can’t help but smile as the smell helps me float into a space between waking and sleeping and comforts me as my eyes grow heavy.

The last thing I remember as I fall asleep is a caring smile underneath bright green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like someone might have a bit of an infatuation ;}


	3. Souvenirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment the door closes behind him, an unnatural silence falls on the apartment. It occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve been alone in the apartment. And it’s the first time I’ve been alone since Eren came to sit next to me on the train. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! More. So I looked through, and I think it'll be two more chapters after this, last update on Friday. We start to see a bit of the angsty angst in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks always to [Renee](http://randompinkbunny9.tumblr.com) for always reading my weird ass writing style and also to [Iristelle](http://iristelle.tumblr.com) for the prompt and reading along as I wrote, giving me encouragement. Also, she's getting an AO3! So I'll be able to gift this to her when that happens =]
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://playingchello.tumblr.com).

For three days I’ve been staying here. I’ve learned a few things. Eren cooks, which surprised me. He’s actually really good and I appreciate the home cooked meals, a major step up from the crap I always ate at home. Most of our days are spent in relative silence in the living room. Eren reads a lot or does something on his computer. Occasionally I’ll see him spread out on the floor behind the couch with several books open around him and his computer in his lap. The books look arcane, but I don’t ask.

On Monday, he comes into the bedroom before I’ve woken up. He tries to be quiet and sneak around, but I’m a light sleeper, especially with the nightmares I’ve been having lately.

“What are you doing?”

He straightens and stares at me with wide eyes and I sit up in the bed, letting the duvet fall down around my waist. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. I’ve got class, first day back.”

“You’re still in school?” I rub my eyes a bit, trying to will the sleep from them and rub out the memories of the nightmare I’d been having.

“Second year law student now at the Heidelberg University. It’s kind of a long commute, so I have to leave pretty early, that’s why I was trying to be quiet.”

“What time is it?”

Through the dark of the room I see Eren reach into his pocket and unlock his phone, casting a ghostly light on his face. A shiver runs up my spine. “About 0530. I’ve got class at 0730 and it’s an hour drive if I’m lucky. I’m almost done in here, you can go back to sleep.” He glances up at me then quickly looks away.

“I’m up now. You can turn the light on.”

He makes an odd, strangled sound and shakes his head vigorously. Weird. “No, I’m nearly done anyway,” he says quickly. Then he grabs a few more things and hurries from the room and I’m left to stare at the empty door frame after him.

Well, I suppose I should get up then. I won’t be able to go back to sleep now, not that I want to. I toss the duvet aside and get out of the bed. A shiver wracks my body and I’m reminded I’m wearing nothing but my boxers. I dig through my suitcase for something to throw on and settle on a pair of old sweatpants and a loose black shirt.

Eren’s running around the room, throwing things into a backpack, when I emerge into the living room. He gives me a momentary glance but returns to focusing on packing. I watch him a moment before going to the kitchen to make some toast. “Did you eat?” I call to him.

“No,” he calls back.

“I’ll make you some toast.”

His head pops around the wall and he looks over to me, “Thank you, I’ll have to take it to go though, I need to get out of here.” Then he disappears again and I can hear him rummaging.

The toast doesn’t take long. I put his on a paper plate and spread his disgusting raspberry jam on it before carrying it out to him. He’s got a light jacket on and looks to have just slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Toast’s done.”

He takes it from me gratefully, “Thank you, I’ve gotta run. You’ve got my number if you need anything.”

“I’m not a child, I can take care of myself.”

He smiles, “See ya.”

I give him a little wave as he rushes out the door, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

The moment the door closes behind him, an unnatural silence falls on the apartment. It occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve been alone in the apartment. And it’s the first time I’ve been alone since Eren came to sit next to me on the train. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.

The toaster pops and surprises me out of my reverie. I go about dressing up the meager breakfast on autopilot. The quiet is seeping into my skin and I’m sending glances over my shoulder every few seconds. It’s this weird oppressive feeling taking over my entire being. When I left Auch, it was my every intention to find a bed and breakfast or something somewhere in Germany and be alone. My plan was loneliness. And yet, here I am. Sitting alone in an empty apartment belonging to a near stranger who has some sort of hero complex and feeling like something is missing. And I really don’t want to think too hard about what that something is.

I reach down again and find that there is no more toast left. I scowl at the empty plate as if it has offended me personally, before cleaning up the crumbs. Finished, I move back to the living room and look around aimlessly. The place is clean, thanks to my insistence, but it’s still cluttered. Eren has piles of things scattered around. Mostly it’s books. There are piles of big, thick books near his desk which I now realise are text books. There’s a bookshelf that is entirely made up of law books and binders marked with his messy handwriting that I guess must have papers or something in them.

He’s got books for pleasure reading scattered everywhere. A small pile or lone book on just about every surface around the apartment. And there are even more in the bedroom bookshelf. It’s obvious Eren is an avid reader, anyone who spends five minutes in here could say as much. He doesn’t seem to have much preference in genres either, there’s anything from fantasy to sci-fi to biographies.

What’s really weird though, and I’m just now noticing, is that there is very little that’s actually personal about the apartment. There aren’t any photographs on display anywhere, no little trinkets that someone may have given him for some occasion or another, not even plants or decorations of any kind. It’s really just a functional space with lots of books.

The realisation hits me really hard. Even my apartment has a few personal touches. Though most of them are at the insistence of Hanji, I have a plant and some stupid shit I’ve gathered over the years in my room. Little things to display a tiny bit of personality. Not that anyone ever sees it as I don’t tend to have people in my room. But Eren’s complete lack of personal anything is almost… disconcerting. It reminds me that I know absolutely nothing about the kid whose apartment I’ve been living in.

With little else to do and absolutely no motivation to try to write, I decide I might as well do a bit of cleaning, however unnecessary it may be. I go down the hall to the little closet where Eren keeps his cleaning supplies. The broom is just off to the side, leaning against the wall of the closet but the bucket is hiding near the back so I have to dig around to get it. There are coats in my way and I push them aside and lean down. I grab the bucket and back out of the closet. I have the door nearly shut again when a green and brown book catches my eye.

The book is up on a shelf above my head and it’s just high enough that I have to strain to reach it. I almost drop the book and the bucket of cleaning supplies when I finally drag it from the shelf while cursing my short stature, but I manage to keep both from falling. Once it’s safely in my hand, I abandon my earlier intention and return the bucket and the broom to the closet and take the book to the dining table.

The cover of it is pretty nondescript. It’s divided in half by a diagonal running from the top left corner to the bottom right. The right half is a dark brown and the left a deep forest green. The green continues to the back so that the opposite is true on that side. It’s thick, and from what I can tell before opening it, it’s a photo album.

I open the cover and find my assumption to be correct. The first page has only one picture that takes up nearly the entire page. The shows a tired, but happy young woman in a hospital gown sitting up in a hospital bed smiling proudly down at a newborn child with a man standing next to her with the most lovestruck expression. Neat, feminine script is written at the bottom of the page in German with black ink that says something along the lines of beginning a new chapter in their lives. The picture is dated March 30th, 1991.

I flip the page and find four pictures on the next two pages. They all depict a very small child, ranging from newborn to maybe two years old. One is noted as first steps, one as a first birthday, another as a family photo, and the last just says ‘playing.’ All in German in the same handwriting. Each picture is dated and all four have the same woman as in the first. The man is in two of them, and by the way the woman looks into the camera in one, he’s likely the one behind the camera in at least that one.

I’m not sure how long I spend going through the pages of the album, but it’s a long time. I take my time, giving each photograph my attention. It’s clear that this is Eren and his parents. Not only would it make little sense for him to have this sort of thing for anyone else, but the striking green eyes are unmistakable. His mother looks just like him, too. There’s no doubt this is an account of Eren’s younger years.

Suddenly, after a picture from Eren’s tenth birthday (March 30, 2001), the pictures just stop. I flip through the blank pages in the rest of the book just to make sure and find them all completely empty. There’s nothing to explain the sudden lack of pictures.

I go through the book again, this time taking note of the other people in the photos. At one point, early on, a blond boy of a similar age to Eren starts appearing in most of the pictures. This is clearly a good friend of his and by the captions I learn his name is Armin. Shortly before the pictures end a young girl shows up, but she’s never referred to by name. She looks vaguely familiar though.

It’s on my fourth time through the album that the door to the apartment opens. I barely register the sound, absorbed in the task of looking through the pictures.

Footsteps come toward me then stop suddenly as a sharp breath is drawn. “Where did you get that?”

Eren’s quiet and almost _dangerous_ voice is what finally draws my attention away from the album and toward him. I’m not really sure how to answer him considering how he looks right now. It’s like he’s at a simmer that’s just about to boil over, radiating a violent heat. “The closet.”

His fists clench and unclench and he looks like he’s holding back. “Put it back.”

I narrow my eyes and watch him through the tense silence. He stares me down with barely contained anger and his whole body is bunched up and so tense he’s nearly shaking. Eventually, I turn back to the book, close the cover carefully, and stand to return it to the shelf in the closet.

When I come back, Eren is in the kitchen starting to cook something. He doesn’t acknowledge me or the incident that just took place, but his body is still a bit rigid and he’s probably still thinking about it.

I give him space and find a place on the couch and pick up one of the books laying around nearby. Turns out I haven’t read it before so I open it to the beginning. I end up lost in the story well enough that I don’t really notice the time passing.

“Food’s done,” Eren calls and I hear him placing plates on the table.

Looking over, I find he’s already sitting at the table and focusing a little too hard on his food. I approach and take a seat and start eating. Under normal circumstances, the silence would be welcome and pleasant. But Eren’s tense and creating a lot of tension and it’s, frankly, stressing me the fuck out.

“Wh-”

“Levi,” he cuts me off with a warning tone.

I’m unimpressed and, even more so, nonplussed, “No, Eren. You want me to stay here, then you don’t get to come in and yell at me then continue to create all this stupid tension without some sort of explanation. You don’t want to let me in? Fine, I’ll leave. Otherwise, tell me what the fuck that was all about.”

We’re probably nowhere near close enough for my outburst to really hold any water, but I hope his want for me to be here is stronger than whatever anger he’s feeling. He stares at me with fury. He doesn’t say anything, so I switch tactics, “You look like your mother.”

Something flashes across his face that looks almost like fear before he hardens again, “You had no right.”

“You’re right.” His anger falters in his surprise for my blunt acknowledgement, “But, what’s done is done. It’s too late to take back what I saw so you’re going to have to deal with that. You don’t have to tell me your whole life story. Either quit being a dick about it or explain why you’re being a dick about it. I don’t really care which.”

He watches me, still with passion burning in his eyes, but considerably calmer now. It’s clear he’s not happy about my looking through the album, but he really can’t do much about that anymore. Finally he opens his mouth, “I already told you. My mom died.”

“Then why do you hide that book away? You have so many books on display here but you don’t have a shred of personal anything in the whole damn place.”

He turns his eyes down and pushes his food around with his fork. His reply comes soft enough I have to strain to hear, “Reminds me of things I’d rather not remember.”

“Are you going to stop being a brat about it?” I ask, more than finished with this whole thing. He glances up to me and nods almost sheepishly. “Okay then.” And I return to my food.

A few moments later he speaks again, “That’s it?”

I look back up and find him watching me, “I told you, I don’t need your life’s story. I just need you to not be an ass and stew in manufactured tension.” I return, once again, to eating.

“ _Danke._ ” He’s so quiet, I nearly miss it, but the German comes across the table and I allow myself a little quirk of my lips.

\--

“If I’m going to keep staying here I either need to start paying rent or at least buy you another bed or something. You can’t keep sleeping out here, it’s been weeks.”

Eren looks up from his computer where he’s been doing some sort of homework, “I can’t take any more money from you. You already pay for the groceries and gas. Plus, it’s not like I really have room for another bed. I offered for you to stay. I’m fine sleeping out here.”

He goes back to typing and tries to crack his back subtly. He’s unsuccessful, both at being subtle and at cracking his back. Sleeping on the couch is not good for him and it can’t be doing him any favours for his schooling either. “You’re not.”

His typing stops, “Who the fuck are you to say?” I catch his gaze and it’s burning.

“You get fucking pissed at everything, don’t you? Calm down. You’re not fine sleeping out here. I can see it affecting you, you can’t fucking hide that shit. I won’t be responsible for you failing something because your back hurts too much.”

He glares at me but the effect is completely lost, “I offered.”

“Would you just suck up whatever shit you’ve got going on and either take your bed back or share it?”

That shuts him up and earns me a pair of wide green eyes staring at me. He chokes over something he tries to say then coughs a bit, “I can’t- you- no.”

“Either you’re in that bed tonight or I’ll come out here to steal the couch. Either way, you’re sleeping in the bed tonight.”

He’s quiet for a while and I just watch him, challenging him with my narrow-eyed stare. “Why do you care so much?”

I blink at the question, but recover quickly, “Contrary to popular belief, I actually do give a shit about other people.”

The snort I get in return is anything but attractive, and yet… Nevermind. “Fine, if it pleases his royal fucking highness, I’ll share the bed.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll quit trying to pretend you don’t have back pain from sleeping out here.”

All I get is a hum and the sound of furiously clacking keys as he returns his focus to his homework. I watch him a few moments, admiring his complete focus. Suddenly I have an intense need to write, so I quickly grab my laptop and pull up my document. For the next several hours, the room is filled with the sound of two keyboards being essentially abused.

At some point I slow and glance up from my screen and realise how late it’s gotten. The room is shrouded in darkness and lit only with the ethereal glow of two laptop screens casting their light on our faces. Eren is still engrossed in whatever he’s doing. “Hey, don’t you have class in the morning?”

“Huh?” He looks up, “Oh, uh, yeah. I do. What time is it?” Before I can answer he looks down at his screen and answers himself, “Shit, when did it get so late? I can probably finish this tomorrow.” He looks at me, “You at a stopping point?”

I look back down at my screen, “Yeah, I was just slowing down anyway.”

Both of us close our laptops and the room is thrown into further darkness and I have to blink a few times until my eyes adjust so I can see well enough to make it through the living room without bumping into anything. I make it halfway down the hall before I realise that there’s no one following me. “Eren?”

I hear a shuffle and then nothing, as if he froze in place. I poke my head around the corner to find him standing rigidly still in front of the couch trying to pull the blanket he’d been using at night over the back of it. I could see his guilt written all over his face at being caught in his poor attempt. “Eren.”

His hands open and the blanket falls across the couch haphazardly, “Yeah, I’m coming.”

Not entirely believing him, I stay where I am and wait for him to slowly make his way over to me. It isn’t until he’s passed me and going down the hall that I move to follow him. He makes a vague motion and peels off into the bathroom while I take the bedroom to get changed for bed.

I still working on stepping into a pair of sweats when the door opens. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I should have knocked. I’ll just-”

“Eren.” I turn toward him when I get the pants up around my hips. He stops with a deer in the headlights wide-eyed stare. “This is your home. As long as you don’t walk in on me taking a shit, then you have every right.”

He mutters something that sounds like it’s along the lines of ‘fat chance of that happening’ before he walks mechanically to the bed with his head down and eyes glued to the floor. Ignoring his odd behaviour, I go to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

When I come back, Eren has managed to get himself propped up on the left side of the bed and he’s reading a book, as usual. Even from here I can see it’s my book. This must be at least the third time he’s read it since I’ve been here. “It has to be getting boring, reading that over and over again.”

He glances up at me, “Not really. I told you; it’s my favourite.”

My face twists, slightly self-conscious about my writing, especially my older writing, “I don’t get it.” I walk over to the other side of the bed and pull back the duvet so I can crawl under it.

Once I’m settled I glance over and find his eyes tracking my movements, “Why do you write?”

Eren’s got this way of asking fucking weird ass questions about my writing that have nothing to do with anything. I can’t even imagine what his thought process is here. “I’m good at it.”

He hums and it sounds almost disappointed, “Is that all?”

I hesitate. I never really thought about why I do it, I just do. Erwin read something I wrote in college for a competition and begged me to sign on with him. Basically, I was told I had a talent and I didn’t really have anything better to do with my life. “Never thought about it.”

“Do you like it?”

I open my mouth then pause. As much as I want to just give him a simple yes, I realise that’s not really an accurate answer. I look down and trace patterns on the duvet with my eyes, “It’s not that I like it, more like I need to do it. Like I have all these stories trying to suffocate my brain and the only way I can keep them away is to let them out, to tell them.”

“Sounds like something you’d write.”

When I look over to him I find him smiling softly down at the book. “I guess.”

He doesn’t respond, so I assume the conversation is over. I shift until I’m laying down and close my eyes, breathing in the familiar scents of cinnamon and trees that I’ve come to associate with Eren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huehuehue, sharing a bed now, boys?


	4. Maison

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My fork clinks softly as I very deliberately set it down on the plate. The silence that follows is deafening. It’s always baffled me how the absence of sound can be so _loud_. But here we are, suffering the most cacophonous silence I may have ever had the displeasure of sitting through. “I don’t even know where home is anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was fun to format. And also way longer than any other chapter. But we finally get smut (aka, I overused italics and I hope that doesn't bother you). I'm really _really_ nervous about this chapter and the smut and that the emotions come through, cuz this is where it really starts to get heavy. I hope you enjoy it, nonetheless.
> 
> Thanks always to [Renee](http://randompinkbunny9.tumblr.com) for always telling me when my shit sucks and also to [Iristelle](http://iristelle.tumblr.com) for the prompt and always being a beacon of loveliness.
> 
> I have a [Tumblr](http://playingchello.tumblr.com).

An insistent vibration rouses me from sleep sometime in mid October. I try to roll over to quell the sound but find myself trapped under a weight pressing down on my chest and a blanket tangled around my legs. I crack and eye open to find my vision partially blocked out by a mass of brown. I move my free arm and try and wipe it away.

Soft hair clears from my vision and I find Eren splayed out halfway on top of me. His head is resting just under my chin and he’s rolled on his stomach with his left arm thrown across my body. This is hardly a new occurrence, after about a month of sleeping in the same bed I’ve found Eren is a restless sleeper and tends to latch on to any kind of warmth.

The continued vibrations remind me of why I’m awake in the first place and I turn my head and pat my free arm around until it finds my phone. I swipe the screen blindly and answer without thinking.

“Who the fuck is it?”

“It’s been nearly two months and you haven’t lost your charm. I’m glad you finally answered.”

I sigh heavily and almost hang up again, but it’s probably about time I answer, “Fuck off, Erwin.”

Eren grumbles and shifts a bit so I have a bit more mobility of my head, but remains asleep. “Are you coming home anytime soon, Levi? Hanji’s worried. I’m worried.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

He sighs, “I’m not pitying you, I’m concerned. We’re your friends, we just want to know you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you coming home?”

“Don’t know. Wouldn’t tell you anyway. It’s early, I just woke up, I’m not in the mood for this.” If I was a bit more awake, I may have figured that’s exactly why he called.

“Where are you?”

“As if you don’t already know. I’m sure Hanji’s got some sort of GPS tracking on me. I’ll send you my drafts when I get a bit more written. Goodbye, Erwin.”

I don’t even wait to hear what he has to say, I just pull the phone away and jam my thumb over the end call button. I take a deep breath and put my phone back on the nightstand a little too forcibly. Eren squirms then relaxes again and I close my eyes, letting the feeling of his warm body on top of mine wash over my senses. I’ve known the kid nearly two months, but he’s become this sort of safe haven for me. Thinking about it makes me feel guilty, though. I don’t want to use him and his hospitality. I’ve grown some inkling of a soft spot for him and it’s strange, but it’s comfortable. It’s like we exist in this space outside the rest of the world. A bubble of safety and comfort and I don’t have to think about my problems or about home and all the places I don’t want to see because I know what I’ll end up thinking.

A long groan from Eren snaps me out of my reverie and I open my eyes again as he shifts, slowly blinking sleep from his eyes and coming to awareness. He glances around and finds my eyes, then grins a big dopey smile. It’s absolutely adorable. I could get used to this. Hell, I already am used to this.

Then something passes over his eyes and he jerks back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Old news, Eren. I quit caring weeks ago.”

He relaxes but doesn’t come back and the absence leaves my skin feeling cold. “We should get up.” I hum in response and he rolls over to get out of bed.

An hour later, we’re both showered and dressed in lazy Sunday sweats sitting together at the table with plates of eggs and sausage. This is another thing I could really get used to about staying here. Eren’s cooking is really very good, and unless he’s rushing out for class or swamped in homework, he cooks for us.

Breakfast is comfortably quiet. Gentle shafts of morning sunlight stream in from the window, lighting up the table and warming my skin. It’s nice, and my eyes slip shut briefly to enjoy the moment.

Then Eren ruins it.

“Are you leaving?”

My eyes open and narrow in his direction, “No.”

“Shouldn’t you go home sometime?”

His eyes are focused on his food, avoiding mine. I open my mouth to snap at him, but then quickly close it again before heaving a sigh, “You were awake.”

It isn’t a question, I already know the answer. Still, he nods and his lips curl in a guilty frown.

“Erwin,” I say, as if that’s explanation enough. It’s not, but I don’t really care to talk about it.

“He sounded like he really cares about you.” There’s a strange quality to his voice, but I pay it no mind, more concerned about the fact that he’s trying to perpetuate the conversation.

Instead of responding, I make a noncommittal noise, hoping he’ll just drop it.

Of course, he doesn’t. “You can’t run from your home forever.”

My fork clinks softly as I very deliberately set it down on the plate. The silence that follows is deafening. It’s always baffled me how the absence of sound can be so _loud_. But here we are, suffering the most cacophonous silence I may have ever had the displeasure of sitting through. “I don’t even know where home is anymore.”

“What-” I make a low warning growl deep in my throat, but he soldiers on. Suicidal little shit. “What are you afraid of?”

And now any semblance of the pleasant, lazy Sunday I’d been looking forward to is shattered. Broken into shards at Eren’s feet the moment he asked the question.

“I’m not afraid.”

For the first time, he looks up and meets my eyes. There I find his classic determination and muted anger. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You’ve been here two months, I know you better than that.”

“No, you don’t know me, Eren.”

His chair scrapes loudly as he stands and his fists come down on the table, rattling the plates and silverware, “The hell I don’t! You don’t share a space—food, time, _a fucking bed_ —with someone without learning a thing or two about them. I can see you when you don’t think I’m looking. I watch you lose yourself when you write. I watch you smirk when you like something I cook. And I see when you fucking _break_. I know you try to hide it, I know you think you’re fine. But you’re _not_. You aren’t fine. You’re haunted and you need to figure out _some_ way to deal with it.”

I’m struck mute at the outburst. I know Eren’s smart, he’s going to law school and that doesn’t just happen. But this is completely unexpected. In a few words he’s managed to pick apart every bit of me I’ve been trying to avoid. And that pisses me off.

“What gives you the _right_?” I grit out low and quiet.

He presses on in the same loud, explosive, exasperated tone, “I don’t know, Levi. Maybe the fact that you’ve been _living_ here. Maybe the fact you’ve been _sharing my bed_. Maybe… Maybe the fact that I think I might be in love with you!”

Silence.

If I thought it was loud before, this is true silence. We stare each other down with mirrored wide-eyed shock. Neither of us move, muscles locked and tense. Not even the heater makes a sound between us. Our positions magnify the distance between us. We spend a lot time like this, long enough that the half-eaten breakfast on our plates goes cold. Then my eyes flick to his fist as it twitches and tightens.

Then something cracks.

Suddenly, I’m standing and Eren is right in front of me. We’re so close that I can feel warm puffs of breath on my face. There’s a moment of hesitation, of tension, and then we’re on each other.

The kiss is bruising, intense, and charged with emotion. All of the tension that had built up over the last two months that I’d disregarded is suddenly culminating on this moment, in this physical display. It’s messy and needy and wet. There’s teeth and tongue and lips. And then my back hits the wall and Eren’s hands are on me, running up my sides and grasping at my shirt. I take the opportunity to mirror his actions and bring my hands to his hair, running my fingers through the strands and pulling him into me harder.

Something changes in the moment we pull back from one another, panting hard and staring into one another’s very being. I can smell him, so close to me, radiating that cinnamon and something else. Something feral and decidedly _Eren_. Before I can stop myself, I inhale, and I realise that this has been a long time coming and there is no going back now.

“Hey,” Eren breathes, his voice is breathy and quiet and hip lips are shining and swollen. I’m sure I don’t look much different.

“Hi.”

“So… That just happened.” He glances down, avoiding eye contact.

“Eren,” he looks up and meets my eyes for the briefest of moments and there’s something there. Something I’d been scared to find but it makes my heart pound and my stomach flutter and, frankly, it feels like I’m sick.

He doesn’t let me continue, and I don’t even know exactly what I was going to say anyway. Instead he leans back down and captures my lips again. But this time it’s excruciatingly gentle. Eren’s lips move against me and his hands settle on my shoulders and his touch sends fire through me. My knees feel weak and he anchors me in him.

This time, when he pulls back, it’s with a sigh rather than ragged pants. He searches my eyes, “Is this okay?”

I nod without breaking eye contact and he lights up and a grin stretches his lips, “I knew you thought I was pretty.”

The eyeroll I give him should go down in history, “You’re a brat.”

His hands run down my arms until he can wrap his fingers around my wrists, where he circles his thumb over my pulse, “That wasn’t a denial.”

This kid, I swear. He was yelling at me not ten minutes ago and now he’s being a cheeky little bastard. I glance over his shoulder to the table, “Breakfast is cold.”

He looks back to follow my sight, “Mmm, too bad.”

“You don’t sound very disappointed.”

“I’m not.”

“Tch,” And that’s it. The heavy mood from earlier has all but dissipated and Eren leads me to the couch with an easy smile.

\--

It’s not until much later that evening that the topic comes up again. We’re sitting at opposite ends of the couch, Eren’s legs resting in my lap and my laptop perched atop them. He’s got his laptop resting on his stomach and I’ve given up trying to figure out what he’s doing. There’s soft music playing from his computer though, and it makes my writing easier.

“Levi?” My fingers pause and my eyes look over without turning my head. He frowns before continuing, “Why don’t you want to go back home?”

“Why do you keep pushing me away?”

“I’m not! Just… stop deflecting. I’m worried.”

“You don’t have anything to be worried about.” I turn back to my screen and stare at it without seeing it. I can still feel Eren watching me intently. After several moments with nothing but the soft music and uncomfortable tension between us, I close the lid of my computer and set it aside before turning to face him. “Everyone has demons, Eren. Mine just happen to reside in Auch, France. Going back means seeing things that will remind me of them and I’d rather avoid that.”

He watches me, expression completely unreadable for once. It’s sort of unnerving, almost like being watched by Erwin, or maybe more like Hanji. I have to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. Then, before I realise what’s happening, he’s getting up. I track his movements as he rounds behind the couch and disappears down the hall.

He returns with a book clutched at his chest and his eyes are red and either freshly clear of tears or waiting to spill them. He comes back around the couch and sits down on the edge much closer than he had been before. The expression on his face is broken and haunted and it fucking hurts.

I’m so concentrated on watching his face that I don’t notice him move until I’ve got a weight on my lap. I look down and find a vaguely familiar book with a green and brown cover. It takes a moment before I realise exactly what this is and what it means.

“The photo album?”

“You’re right. Everyone has demons. This is how I deal with mine.”

I glance at him and find a watery smile and glistening eyes before I return my attention to the album and run my fingers over the cover reverently. Then I open the cover.

“The day I was born. I like this picture. They look so happy.”

I can feel an odd heat prickling at the back of my eyes, but I blink it away.

We flip through the book together, Eren explaining each and every picture and telling me stories about the people in them. He smiles and laughs and constantly has to wipe away tears, but his eyes don’t look so haunted and his face isn’t so broken anymore. I learn about his friend, Armin, who he tells me is going to school in America. I learn his mother’s name was Carla and she was born in Turkey and she met his father while she was studying in Germany. He tells me his father was a doctor, but he glosses over the details.

I turn the page again and a new person shows up, a young girl I remember from my first time looking through the album. But something is nagging me in the back of my head.

“This is when we met Mikasa. Dad brought her bac- Levi?”

I stopped looking at the picture the moment he said her name and now I’m staring wide eyed at him. The severity of my reaction surprises even me, and I quickly school my expression into something approaching indifference, “Well fuck me sideways.”

“Uhm…”

And that, for some unknown reason, is the funniest fucking thing I’ve heard in ages. I don’t even start with a chuckle, I just burst out into unapologetic manic laughter. Eren looks nervous and slightly terrified, which doesn’t help calm me down any. It takes me several minutes and handing the album over to Eren before I manage to get a handle on my breathing and calm down enough to speak.

“Shit, I don’t know what kind of fucked up joke the universe thinks this is but congratulations to it, because I laughed.”

“Yeah, that was weird…”

I glare at him, “What’s Mikasa’s last name?”

He frowns in utter confusion, “Acke-” he cuts off when he realises what he’s about to say.

“Yeah.” I smirk, “She’s a distant cousin estranged from my side of the family. I’ve never met her, but I based the main character in Flügel der Freiheit off of what I thought she’d be like when I saw pictures of her. Which is why she looked so familiar the first time I saw these pictures.”

“Holy shit! I always told her I thought she resembled that character. She doesn’t know you then?”

I shake my head, “Probably doesn’t even know we’re related.”

“Well…” he looks away guiltily, “If you’re staying here for any length of time, you’ll meet her. She moved to Russia after school to be with her girlfriend but she’s visiting this Christmas.”

“You say that like two months isn’t any length of time. Speaking of which, how did I manage to stay here that long and never hear about these people?”

The change in his face is so drastic. It’s like a dark cloud descends and shadows his face. “Demons.” And that’s all he needs to say to make me understand. These people are connected to his demons. His mother. The reason we’re sitting here with an open photo album that hasn’t been added to in more than ten years.

I lean into him, hoping my physical presence is enough, or at least something, to help him. He flips mechanically to the last page with a picture pasted in, skipping a couple pages of he, Armin, and Mikasa appearing in various settings with his mother appearing less frequently. His thumb brushes over the inscription underneath the picture of Eren on his tenth birthday, huge grin with a missing front tooth on display and his mother smiling pleasantly next to him. Armin and Mikasa are both at the table focused on the cake with ten candles burning pleasantly.

“This is the last picture I have of her.”

I don’t have words to help him through this. I don’t know what I can possibly say to take away his pain. When I write, it always seems so easy to have the characters say the right things, but it doesn’t translate to real life, real emotions, real people. People I care about.

“She got sick a few weeks after this was taken. Pancreatic cancer. The thing about pancreatic cancer, is that by the time you realise you’re sick, it’s too late. And it’s fucking fast. They said she only had a few months when she was diagnosed. And all they could do was give her pain medication. Within weeks of diagnosis, she was bed ridden, weak, and so thin. Dad limited our hospital visits, didn’t want us kids to see how bad she was.”

There’s a long pause, then a deep breath, before he continues again, “I was in sixth grade, first week of school. The principal called Mikasa and me into the office together. She told us. And then our family friend, Hannes, picked us up to stay with him for the rest of the day. I remember waiting for him to come so clearly. Mikasa was so quiet, holding my hand while I fucking bawled. I made all sorts of stupid claims, saying I was going to eradicate cancer. That’s what I remember. Well, that and the fact that dad never came back.”

Silent tears fall from his eyes, trailing down his cheeks and leaving wet stains behind. Then he tries to draw a breath and all that he can do is sob pathetically. In some attempt to sympathise, my hand finds his and I squeeze.

The kiss he gives me when he turns his head is wet. Wet, messy, gross, and emotional. But he clearly needs it. When he pulls back, he practically collapses into me. His shoulder shakes with his sobs and I can feel my shirt dampening with his tears. With my free hand, I close the photo album perched precariously in his lap and move it aside so it’s safe.

While he lays against me, hands grasping at my shirt, I can’t do much other than sit there and hold him. Eren’s emotional, but he doesn’t really _break_ like this. And it’s terrifying because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, how I can possibly help.

I’m not sure how long it takes before Eren’s breathing settles and his sniffling quiets, but it’s a long time. My back is stiff from the position and his can’t be much better. I break the semi silence when he pulls back enough to wipe the back of his hand across his eyes, “You need to sleep.”

He nods, so I help him up and lead him to the bedroom with a hand to the small of his back. I wait for him to change into sleep clothes before pulling back the duvet for him and standing there as he curls up underneath it. When I turn to leave, he grabs my wrist, “Don’t go.”

“Your computer is still playing music. I’m going to go clean up, I’ll be back.”

His hand tightens around my wrist, but then he drops it with a small noise.

Back in the living room, I close out his music and shut his laptop and place it back on his desk. I put the photo album back in the closet and step into the bathroom briefly. Upon my return, Eren is still curled up under the duvet with it pulled up to his chin, facing the middle of the bed. I can’t tell if he’s asleep, so I change as quietly as I can before padding over to the bed and slipping in.

“You came back.”

His voice startles me slightly, but I guess he hadn’t fallen asleep. “No shit, where else was I going to sleep?”

He doesn’t answer, but the instant I lay down, he shifts and latches onto me. I roll to face him and I’m about to push him away when his lips crash into mine, insistent and needy. A gasp parts my lips enough for him to take advantage and explore my mouth with his tongue. His hands roam over my bare chest and it sends a shudder through me. I’m so distracted by his smirk into the kiss and his hand moving to grip at my hair that I don’t notice him moving until his thigh is between my legs and pressing against me.

I grind involuntarily into him and the sensation sends shocks up my spine and makes a choked sound escape my throat. Eren breaks the kiss and pulls back, “Levi.”

The way he breathes my name out is intoxicating. It leaves me breathless and I have to remind myself that this is _real_. This is _happening_. I can’t form words through the realisation and instead, I let my hand come to rest on his hip, just under where the hem of his sleep shirt has ridden up some.

He sighs at the contact and nuzzles into my neck, placing delicate whispers of kisses at whatever skin he can reach. “Eren.” He pulls back and looks at me and it fucking _kills_ me because his eyes are watery with unshed tears and it’s like it’s taking everything he has just to hold himself together.

“Please?” His question is no more than a whisper, a desperate plea, but it rings in my ears as if he’d shouted it. The sound of it is raw and rough and _broken_.

All I can do is nod before he lets out a breath and crashes into me again, rolling me to my back so he can loom over me. His hair falls over his face, casting it into shadow in the already dark room. But his eyes shine brightly, meager moonlight filtering into the room reflecting off them and lightening them into a feral yellow.

The bright flash of yellow disappears for a moment when his eyes slide shut and he leans forward to kiss me with hungry fervour. I respond in kind, letting myself fall under this spell of emotion and this physical being. He shifts his weight so that he’s holding himself just by where his knees press into the mattress on either side of my hips, then he runs his hands over the lines of my chest and abdomen. He maps me carefully, like he’s trying to commit me to memory.

I’m not sure what to do with my hands, so I let them rest at his hips, squeezing a little tighter when he brushes over a sensitive spot. He takes his time, trailing kisses over my lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, wherever he can reach. Impatient with our disparage in clothing, I lift my hands, keeping the barest of contact up his sides while I bring the hem of his shirt up. His arms lift to allow me to push his shirt off. I toss the fabric away and return my hands to him, one returning to his hip and one brushing up his spine and the back of his neck.

He convulses in a violent shudder and _moans_ in this beautiful, _wrecked_ way, fingers twitching and digging almost painfully into my skin. _That_ is a good thing to know.

Eren recovers quickly when my hand isn’t teasing the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, and retaliates with a harsh bite to my collarbone. My back arches and I hiss from the treatment. He licks tenderly at the spot then pulls back and stares down at me, like he’s looking through me, or maybe into me.

He stays like this a long time; quiet and staring at me. After a while, it starts to feel a little uncomfortable. Then something wet hits the hollow of my collarbones and it hits me what’s happening.

He’s crying.

My hands move automatically to cup his face and I brush my thumbs under his eyes to wipe away the wetness there. He tries to turn away, but I hold him fast and pull him into me. He gives in and collapses on top of me. His breathing hitches as he fights the tears again. I run my hands over his back, hopefully in something soothing.

“I’m sorry,” he says, muffled as he speaks into where he’s buried his face in my neck.

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“I’m just… I’m so _tired_. It’s been _thirteen_ years. It shouldn’t hurt this much.”

One of my hands comes up to turn his head enough so I can look at him, “Of fucking course it should. That shit doesn’t just go away. Especially when you hide from it.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” The words are without malice but I wince anyway. He’s right.

“True.”

He huffs a breath and nuzzles into me, fingers trailing over my chest, “What are we doing?”

“Until recently, I was under the impression we were going to fuck.” He bites at my neck, hard and not pleasantly. I flinch and try to pull back, “Ouch, dick.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” I pause and let silence stretch between us. Both of us trace bare skin with exploratory fingers. I almost lose myself in the intimacy of it, forgetting I’m supposed to be answering a question. “I don’t know what we’re doing, Eren. What do you want to do?”

“Honestly?” I nod, choosing not to ruin the moment with something flip. “I want to finish what we started.”

He starts to move to straddle me again, but my hand comes up to brush at the spot I’d found earlier. He nearly collapses on me when he trembles at the touch. “No fair,” he breathes, when he recovers.

“So I was right then, you do have a vulnerable spot.”

He growls and goes to map my upper body with lips and teeth, sucking wherever he can manage and leaving red marks all over my torso. I can’t keep myself from whimpering occasionally at the rough treatment and moaning at a particularly hard bite.

I let my hands run over him, mimicking his earlier memorisation of me. When I reach his pant line, I slip my fingers beneath it, running them across his back under the band. He makes a little, low humming sound and I let my fingers dip ever so slightly lower into his pants. Impatient, he wiggles up to force my hands lower.

Taking the hint, I push his pants down until our position stops me. He licks up the vein in my neck before pulling away so he can roll over and finish what I started. When he returns, he kneels next to me to peel away my sweatpants as well. As soon as they’re clear, I grab him by his hair and pull him back up for another bruising kiss.

He pulls back, “Levi.” He sits back on my thighs and looks down at me with immeasurable affection even though his eyes are still glistening, “I-” One of my hands comes up to cup his cheek. “I th- I think-” He can’t get words passed whatever lump is in this throat.

“I know.” And I do, for the most part. I know he was going to say something ridiculously emotional. I don’t know exactly what, but I’m sure he’ll try to tell me again. And at this moment, it doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that we’re here, together, skin against skin, with only small bits of fabric between us.

I don’t know how it happened. I’m not sure how I let myself fall into this. Two months ago I was sitting on a train just to get away. And then this stupid beautiful kid in all his bravado offers me a place to go. And over these two months I got comfortable, got used to moving around another person, didn’t even notice when he started affecting me more than just his dazzling beauty. He makes me food, he inspires me, he makes me smile.

And that’s it, isn’t it? That’s what it was. He found me in the worst moment of my life and didn’t demand anything from me. Instead, he gave me solace and reminded me that there’s still good in this world. And that’s what I want to do for him. That is what I want to give him.

I pull him in for a gentle kiss and then roll us so I’m looming over him. He’s so perfect, so fucking, “Beautiful.” I hadn’t intended to say that aloud, but it’s out now, and certainly no less true. Eren blushes deep enough that I can see it in the low light and it’s _cute_. And that makes me want more. I lean down to kiss at his throat, “Perfect,” his chest, “Gorgeous.” He squirms and it’s hard not to notice how achingly hard he’s getting. Not that I want to not notice.

I crawl back, trailing hands and kisses down his body as I go. Once I’m in a better position, I slowly pull down his briefs, letting his cock spring free to slap against his stomach. I hear him hiss but the sound dies when I start kiss up his thighs.

He whines, my name falling so sweetly from his lips. His cock is fucking magnificent, already flushed and beading with precome. And a glint of silver catches my attention. I don’t comment, but I do raise my eyebrows and tease the metal with my thumb.

“Le-Levi,” he pants, “N-need- _fuck me_.”

My fingers dig into his thighs and I smirk, “Not doing shit unless you’ve got lube around here somewhere.”

He turns his head and his arms flops out toward the nightstand to the left of the bed, “Second drawer. Condoms, too.” It’s breathless, but he manages to get all the words out in one shot. I lengthen myself so I can reach over and dig through the drawer he indicates. It takes a little effort, but eventually I manage to get my fingers around the bottle of lube and one of the condoms.

The condom is tossed aside for the time being which I open the bottle of lube and squeeze some onto my fingers. Eren’s eyes track my fingers as I warm the gel on them and his thumbs rub absent patterns into my hips. Once satisfied, I move so I’m kneeling next to him. I lean over him to kiss reverently at his throat while my finger circles the ring of muscle of his entrance before pushing gently in.

His mouth falls open but no sound comes out while I carefully work my finger into him. He’s tight and hot and when I pull back a bit before pushing in again, he makes a long, low sound that sounds like it’s trying to be a word, maybe my name, but it doesn’t quite form. I work him slow and gentle, leaving tender kisses anywhere I can get to. Whenever I have the breath to, I offer praises and it clearly has the intended effect because he practically falls apart around me.

Once I’ve gotten three fingers working in gentle thrusts and Eren is begging for “more, more, _morepleasemore_ ,” I curl my fingers a bit and finally find his sweet spot. He _screams_.

I quickly clap my free hand over his mouth and whisper in his ear, “As much as I love hearing all your pretty noises, it’s late and you have neighbours.”

He licks my hand and I recoil on instinct. “D-don’t care, just- just hurry.” He’s wrecked and breathless and utterly beautiful. I take pity on him, withdrawing my fingers. He makes a tiny, pitiful whine at the absence and drags at my shoulder to pull me into a poorly aimed kiss. When he releases me, I pull away to move over to the box of tissues on the nightstand to wipe my hand. Eren props himself up on his elbows, “Really?”

“Do you want me to fuck you, or not?” He nods with a playful grin, “Then shut the fuck up.”

He reaches over and tugs at my underwear, still covering my obvious erection. I shoot him a look before peeling them off without fanfare and crawling back to him, slotting myself between his legs. His eyes follow me and his hands reach out to run down my front until he can grip my cock with both hands and pump a few times. My head lolls back at the attention and then he moves a hand to pat around for where the discarded lube and condom are laying.

I take the condom from him and tear open the package before rolling it down. Once in place, he adds a generous glob of lube to his hand and spreads in down my cock. His hand falls away after I’ve been coated adequately and he reaches over and pulls a tissue from the tissue box. When I raise an eyebrow at him, he only smiles with dark cheeks and wipes off his hand.

Finally, I hook my arms under his knees and align myself, bending him up. He pants something that is probably supposed to resemble begging or pleading, but it just comes out as high pitched choked sounds. I press into him with all of the self control I can muster, pushing so slowly and drinking up the lovely sounds that fall from Eren’s lips. As I sink further into him, I bend him back more until I can kiss him, share his breath, run my hands wherever I can reach.

I sigh as I bottom out, encompassed in the feeling of him, his heat, wrapped so tightly around me. We just sit there a moment, staring at each other and panting soft breaths of warm air. There’s just so _much_. An overwhelming sense of _feeling_. Like the world outside this room just fell away and there could be giants running around eating people and I wouldn’t be able to care because I’m here, with Eren.

And then Eren makes a little noise and wiggles impatiently, signalling he’s adjusted. At his insistence, I pull my hips back a little then grind back down, slow and deep. And that’s the pace I set, a slow, deep, and grinding rhythm that is driving us both insane by the way our breathing stutters and quickens. Our kisses devolve into something more like mindless mouthing at each other.

Eren’s loud. There’s barely a moment in which he’s not whining, keening, moaning, begging, or saying my name. Even when I cover his mouth with mine, he manages to hum and make pretty little noises of pleasure. If I manage to get a word in edgewise, I shower him in praise and marvel at the way his cock twitches. I don’t even have to touch him.

Eventually I shift so I have enough room to pull nearly all the way out. I pause and Eren whines, grabbing my arms and digging his fingers into them as he attempts to pull me back. “You’re so perfect, Eren. Beautiful, falling apart for me like this.”

“Lev-” He’s cut off when I rock back into him. I adjust just slightly so my angle is a little better so I brush achingly slowly passed his sweet spot, causing him to cry out loudly again. “Ahh, _there_. Don’t stop, _pleasedon’tstop_.”

His begging spurs me on in a slightly quicker pace, still slow, but less grinding and more insistent. The new angle allows me to brush passed his prostate on every thrust and he throws his head back into the pillows and has to bite the meat of his thumb to keep from being _too_ loud. Not that it helps all that much. I could lose myself in his cries, the way he sounds as _I_ send him higher and higher.

Then I reach my hand around his neck to scratch my nails gently along his sensitive nape.

He barely manages to wrench his hand from his mouth and offer a choked warning before his come splatters on his stomach, nearly reaching his chin, completely untouched. It’s possibly the sexiest sight I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing and his scream sends shudders through my body and stutters my rhythm. The way he squeezes around me is what sends me over the edge, whiting out my vision and causing me to collapse into Eren’s bent form. I can feel his hands running over my sides.

At some point, I manage to bring myself into awareness enough to pull out gently and remove the condom so I can tie it off and toss it in the trash. And as much as I’d love to just collapse in the bed next to Eren’s boneless, naked form, I have a little more grace than that. While he basks in his afterglow, I quickly step into the bathroom for a damp washcloth, only to return to clean the mess from Eren’s body. He hums softly while I wipe the sticky mess from his abdomen. I think he murmurs a thank you when I finish and go to rinse out the cloth.

Upon my reemergence into the bedroom, I find Eren watching me with oddly clear eyes.

“Hey,” he says, as I crawl back into the bed to lay next to him.

“Hi.”

He looks at me like he’s going to say something, but instead he leans over lazily for a chaste kiss. Once I’m settled, he rolls to his side to face me, and watches me with wide, life-filled green eyes. And I realise that they are painfully familiar. My head falls back into the pillows and my eyes slide shut, “You remind me of her.” And I can’t believe I never realised it before. It’s so obvious. From his brash approach to life, his unabashed caring, down to his bright eyes full of life. Just like her.

I can feel him shift next to me, come close and prop himself up. I feel his eyes on me and I can’t bring myself to open mine to meet them. “Who?”

“Her name was Is-Isabel,” I can’t keep the hitch from my voice. Can’t hide the way I can’t even say her fucking name without stumbling over the syllables. It doesn’t escape me that it’s the first time I’ve said it since-

Anyway.

“She is one of your friends.” It’s not a question and his use of present tense definitely doesn’t escape my notice.

“Her and Farlan. They’re my demons.”

I hear movement, then feel his body heat as he curls into me and wraps me up in him. I let him hold me, resting my head on his chest while he traces senseless patterns on my skin. We don’t exchange anymore words, and it’s not too long before the patterns stop and his breathing evens out. His arms encircle me and usually that would make me feel claustrophobic, but not with Eren. Eren just makes me feel safe. Warm.

Loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to tie things up.


	5. Affrontement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The person steps back and I find myself staring at unfortunately familiar brown eyes. I don’t even notice as I slip into French, “ _Ce que la baise faites-vous ici, Hanji? Qui vous laissera même dans?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, first off I am in shock. Over 200 kudos on this tiny little story that was never really meant to go anywhere. But I'm really glad it did. These characters sort of wedged their way into my head and my heart. I'm really really appreciative of all the wonderful feedback I've gotten and all the people who have read this. I love you guys, really. I'll blab more at the end.
> 
> Thanks to [Renee](http://randompinkbunny9.tumblr.com) for not yelling at me for bugging her and [Iristelle](http://iristelle.tumblr.com) for being totally awesome, giving me the prompt that started all this, and being a super great artist.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://playingchello.tumblr.com).

The next week is busy, at least for Eren. He’s balls deep in midterm exams and it stresses him out whenever he’s home. When he is here, he can be found glued to the dining table with books, notebooks, and his laptop spread out on the surface. I’ve taken to watching surreptitiously from the couch over the lid of my laptop as he studies.

It’s fascinating, watching him. He’s always furiously concentrated, with a deep frown burned in his features. Sometimes he’ll run his hands through his hair with a heavy sigh. I catch him whispering about this case or that law constantly in slurred German. He’ll spend a half hour staring at a notebook, frozen in place so completely that I worry he’s fallen asleep, before suddenly sitting up straight with a smile. I assume that means he’s understood something complicated. Last night I even went to bed just before midnight alone and woke up around three in the morning to find his side of the bed still cold. I had to drag him from the table to get him to sleep.

“When’s your next exam?”

Eren continues scribbling at his notebook and doesn’t answer. I assume he just didn’t hear me because he’s so focused.

“Oi, brat!” I call louder.

He blinks heavily and turns his head to me, “Huh? Oh, sorry, what?”

I sigh with a smirk, “I asked when your next exam is.”

“Ah,” he sets his pencil down, “Two more tomorrow afternoon. First one’s at two.”

“Anything Friday?”

He smiles, “Nope! I have one more next week, but I’m not worried about that one.”

“Good, no studying Friday. You need to relax.”

He sticks his tongue out, but then smirks and raises an eyebrow, “Are you going to be in charge of my relaxation then? And don’t forget it’s your turn for groceries on Friday, too.”

I stare a moment, “I know, I’ll go in the morning.” He goes to turn back to his work when I don’t continue, but then I start again, “You should take a break.”

“No time.”

“I haven’t eaten, which means you haven’t either. Come here, we’ll order take out and you can study when we finish dinner.”

He glances over his notes again, mulling over my suggestion, then relents with a sigh. He stands and walks over to the couch to collapse into it. While I’m sure he was going for sitting next to me, he ends up more or less on me, in my lap enough that it’s become all but impossible to type.

“How’s the book coming?”

“Would be better if you weren’t blocking me from being able to type.” He starts to pull away but I stop him before he can get too far.

He gives me a measured look then settles back into me with a deep breath. I relax some as well, not having realised how tense I had gotten. “Mmm, so I have a question.”

I make a little noise while I close my laptop and reach over for my phone.

“How do you stay so fit? You eat the same crap I do, but I go to the gym at school. You’ve been here two months and I’ve never seen you work out.”

“Tch, I run. While you’re at school, which is why you don’t see it. It’s no grand mystery. You want the usual?” I ask as I scroll through my phone for the number to our normal take out restaurant.

He nods and picks absently at the hem of my shirt while I order our food.

\--

“Oi, come out and he-”

I’m cut off by a force hitting my chest and nearly knocking the bags I’m carrying out of my hands. There’s a pair of arms around my neck and my face is smashed into the neck of whoever is hugging me in a fucking death grip.

The person steps back and I find myself staring at unfortunately familiar brown eyes. I don’t even notice as I slip into French, “ _Ce que la baise faites-vous ici, Hanji? Qui vous laissera même dans?_ ”

“ _Votre petit ami, bien sûr. Je peux voir pourquoi vous ne serez pas revenir à la maison._ ” I stiffen when they say boyfriend and they grin wolfishly before letting out an earsplitting howl, “ _Je avait raison! Vous avez couru loin de la maison et a trouvé un petit ami! Comme c’est romantique, Erwin me doit de l'argent…_ ” They trail off at the realisation.

“ _Si je n'étais pas la tenue de ce, je vous frapper au visage. Déplacer._ ” They do and I make my way to the kitchen. “Why?” is all I can say when I find Eren pouring a mug of tea.

He looks up at me, “They said they know you and that you were expecting them?”

I put the bags down in a childish huff as Hanji comes around and sits at the dining table, smiling to themself as they listen in with their face cupped in their hands. “There’s more groceries in the car, can you help bring them in?”

“Yeah, just a sec.” He glances to Hanji, “You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

“Not at all!” Their accent is thicker than mine, so even the simple response is a bit garbled and difficult to understand. But Eren seems to have no trouble. He finishes pouring the tea and sets it down in front of Hanji, then grabs a jacket to help me bring in groceries.

Upon our return with the rest of the bags, Hanji watches us as we go about putting everything away and getting our own mugs of tea. They don’t comment, just waits until we finish.

Several minutes later, all three of us are seated around the little dining table nursing mugs of hot tea in tense silence. Hanji’s eyes flit between Eren and me before they smile wide and disregard all of the tension in the room, “So, Levi. We miss you at home.”

“I’m not doing this, Hanji. Go home.”

I don’t look at them, don’t want to see whatever expression of sad pity they’re wearing. Don’t want to feel even more guilty than I already do for leaving them behind.

The silence stretches and Eren shifts in his chair. I keep my eyes trained on my mug, watching the steam rise. Eren is the one to finally break the silence, sounding very uncomfortable, “I’ve got to go make a phone call. I promised Mika I’d call her. Let me know if you need anything. Nice to meet you, Hanji.”

I glance up and see Hanji wave him off while he pushes back and takes his mug with him to the bedroom. The excuse is bullshit. He talked to Mikasa yesterday right before his exams. But Hanji doesn’t know that and he doesn’t need to be around for this, so I don’t call him out on it.

Once he’s gone, Hanji speaks again, returning to French, “You missed the funerals.”

The glare I aim at them is absolutely _murderous_. “You don’t think I fucking _know that?_ What the fuck are you actually here for?”

They hesitate a moment before answering, “Izzy’s parents have some things for you. And they want to see you. Farlan’s brother, too. And we really do miss you, the house feels pretty empty without you.”

“I can’t do that, Hanji. I can’t go back there and I sure as _fuck_ can’t see them. I can’t.”

The pity in their gaze makes me fucking sick. I can’t handle looking at it, so I return to staring at my tea, cooled considerably by this point. “Levi…” they start. When I don’t say anything, they continue, “I know people grieve differently, and I know this is horrible, but this isn’t grief. This is just avoidance. You need to deal with this.”

My fist hits the table, harder than I intend, and rattles the mugs, “No, Hanji. You don’t know. You can’t possibly know.”

They stand, chair scraping back deafeningly, “They were _my friends, too._ ”

The air crackles with near physical electricity. We stare at each other with gazes dripping in venom. Hanji doesn’t get angry much. They don’t get offended or upset and takes everything with a grain of salt. Or makes it into some sort of scientific observation. But everyone has a breaking point, and I’ve found Hanji’s. And it is terrifying.

“You don’t get to invalidate _my_ feelings because _you_ feel bad. I don’t know how many times I’ve been through the many different ways that day could have gone. If I had left work an hour earlier, if I had answered Izzy’s text, if I’d have agreed to come that day. But there’s nothing we can do. The past is the past. It’s over. All we can do is deal with it. And everyone’s methods are different. But Izzy’s parents and Farlan’s brother want to see you as part of their attempts at healing. You can _do_ something.”

The speech hits me hard. It feels like the wind has been knocked out of me. Sometimes, due to their incessant exuberance and general irritating personality, it’s easy to forget how _intelligent_ Hanji is. And not only that, but they’re excellent in seeing everyone’s point of view and tying them together, stringing together bits of information to formulate a picture. And they know how to make a person think.

And they definitely are making me think.

“When are you leaving?”

Their face flashes with anger again, but softens when they see the resignation in my expression. After a beat, they return to their abandoned chair, “I’ve got a hotel room for the night. I can stay a bit longer if I need to, but I have labs to teach.”

“Go get settled. I need some time to think.”

They nod and finish off the last of their tea, “Thank you, Levi. And thank Eren for me. _À bien tôt._ ”

Seconds after Hanji is out the door, Eren emerges from the bedroom.

“How much did you hear?”

“Well, I _heard_ most of it, but they speak fast French and mine’s really not that great, so I didn’t catch all of it. Got the gist though.”

I huff a breath then go to the table to clean up the mugs.

“You’re going to leave.”

Eren’s voice is quiet. It’s not accusing, but understanding, with an undercurrent of _hurt_. I’m sure he tries to make it even, but his voice cracks at the end.

My head turns to him, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

He hovers at the entrance to the kitchen, watching the floor and fidgeting his fingers while I wash the mugs. He mutters something under his breath. It doesn’t sound English or German, but I don’t hear it well enough to be sure and I certainly don’t hear it well enough to know what he says.

I stare at him with an expression I hope translates to ‘I didn’t catch that, want to repeat it?’ Eventually he glances up and notices my eyes on him. His gorgeous green eyes get impossibly large and he stumbles over an apology before disappearing around the corner. I watch the empty spot he’d disappeared from for a long moment in confusion before returning to washing the mugs.

Hanji has some good points. Their deaths _are_ out of our control. We all made decisions and this is how they played out and it fucking sucks. It hurts and burns a hole in my chest at every mention of their names, every reminder of them. We can’t blame ourselves for how events turned out.

And I do miss Izzy and Farlan’s families. They’ve always been good to me, essentially taking me in when I couldn’t stay at home when we were kids. The foster system is fucking shit. But they always welcomed me with open arms. I have no earthly idea what they could possibly have for me, it’s not like they had wills. They were too young. Much too young.

I need to go back. Not now, not yet. I’m not ready yet. But soon. Maybe not to stay. But I owe it to their families at least. I owe it to them to see them. Especially after missing the funerals.

Now that my hands are pruned and the last mug is probably cleaner than when Eren bought it, I turn off the faucet and grab a hand towel from the stove handle.

I find Eren in the bedroom with one of his school books, “Hey, I told you, no studying today.”

He looks up and his cheeks have a dusting of pink when he sees me, “I still have another test.”

I pluck the book from his hands, making sure to mark his spot before placing it in the bookcase, “You said you weren’t worried. Come on, move over.”

He complies, lifting the duvet for me to climb under to join him. I prop myself up on the pillows, a small distance between us. I can feel his tension, radiating from his body in waves. I’m not really sure how I can approach whatever is bothering him, especially with how muddled my brain still is from Hanji’s visit.

“You should go see your friends’ families.”

“Yeah, I should.”

His head snaps to look at me with something like surprise. “So you’re going then?”

“I owe it to them.” He hums and takes a shaky breath, but doesn’t say anything. “Hey, kid, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

I know very well that he’s lying, that he is very clearly _not_ fine. But I don’t say anything. Instead, I bridge the small gap between our bodies and lean into him.

Several minutes later, I’ve lulled myself into a fairly relaxed state, letting Eren’s proximity calm me down and I can almost convince myself that I don’t have a load of bullshit to deal with. Then Eren’s voice breaks the silence, “When are you leaving?”

“What?”

“France, when are you leaving?”

He sounds almost defensive. Demanding.

Something clicks.

“You don’t want me to leave.” I can feel him tense next to me. “What are you afraid of?”

He’s quiet for a long time; so long that I almost give up on getting an answer. But finally, he takes a breath, “Everyone leaves.”

I lean away from him so I can look at him more clearly. He’s still tense, sitting stiffly with his hands curling into his thighs. It looks painful. His eyes are anywhere but on me. He looks so wound up and hard. Hard like he has some deep hidden pain that he’s got locked up behind cold, smooth stone. And there isn’t a crack in sight, just smooth walls taller than I can hope to see.

But I’ve spent a lot of time with this man. I’ve seen him smile and laugh, cry and yell. I’ve watched him with an unhealthy amount of attention trying to pin him down for my book. And when I think about the way our relationship has progressed in the last week, the walls seem a little less daunting.

And then I think of something that might just open a gate.

“When’s your next break from school?”

He’s visibly thrown by my seemingly out of nowhere question. He blinks several times before answering, “Um, All Saint's Day. Why?”

A wide smirk stretches my lips when our eyes meet, “Have you ever been to Auch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this story. I left the end very open ended because I want _you_ , the reader, to come up with your own ideas of what happens next. I mean, I have my own vague ideas of how All Saint's Day will go. But I want you to decide whether or not a trip to Auch is what Levi needs to heal, if Eren realises that Levi's not going anywhere so easily. If either of them can figure out how to actually say 'I love you' to the other (because Eren saying he thinks he's in love with Levi was a heat of the moment type deal and neither one has said the L word since, at least not to the other). This story is for you guys. I don't plan on writing any more of it, but I would _love_ to hear your thoughts on what happens in the future.  
>  EDIT: Gah, I totally forgot to put this in! BUT for the future, here's a song that is from Izzy's POV (kinda? It's weird, listen and you'll understand) in [French](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pyh8avE5vUE) and [English](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crZ3OMS-fBU) by Kamelot called Don't You Cry (Ne Pleure Pas)


End file.
